


pull it apart and put it back together (how you want it)

by falsealarm



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsealarm/pseuds/falsealarm
Summary: They’ve been in and out of the car for a week now, alternating between cramming into the back seat to sleep and sitting in the front to eat dinner and talk about how much 1958 sucks. 
(1958 AU, Ray makes it to the Waverider in time leaving Sara and Kendra to fend for themselves in the 50's.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> It starts as angst but honestly this was just an excuse for me to write a lot of fluff. Thanks to [pirateygoodness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/profile) for beta-ing and for being a wonderful person.
> 
> Title from "Everything Has Its Shape" by KT Tunstall.

HARMONY FALLS, JANUARY 1958

 

The Waverider begins to rise and Sara can feel her heart plummet into her stomach. Ray is already on board, the door closing behind him as the ship lifts into the air with a heavy whoosh.

“Hey!” Kendra’s voice rings out into the cold air but the ship’s engines roar harshly, drowning her out. They both break into a stunted run: one, two, three steps before the door closes and the ship glows a warm orange before rocketing away into the sky.

“Where’d they go?” Kendra is next to her, breath coming out in foggy wisps.

Sara looks up at the cloudy sky, squinting against the diffused light. “Better question, why did they leave us?”

It’s five minutes of solid silence before either of them speak again.

“They’re not coming back, are they?” Kendra is standing at the edge of the field, looking up at the empty sky, her arms wrapped around herself.

Sara pushes herself up from the trunk of the tree and Kendra turns around to face her. She doesn’t need to answer that question, Kendra already knows: you have a time machine and you’re never late.

Six hours later Sara’s feet are just starting to ache, the tell-tale pain of blisters at her heels. It’s right when they hit the outskirts of town that they finally find what she’s been looking for. The lot is big and full of empty cars, snow-covered shiny behemoths with easy to jimmy door locks and easier to hot wire ignitions.

“One good thing about 1958, no car alarms.” Sara has to rip at the wires with her teeth, the plastic sheathing too tough for fingernails but she manages to expose the metal after a few tugs.

“I didn’t think they had cars in Nanda Parbat.” Kendra is her lookout, perched against the side of the car with eyes towards the diner. They had to take the woods for most of their walk back to the outskirts of town, avoiding roads and soaking their feet down to the bone in half-melted snow. Kendra had trudged along silently behind her; this is the first time Sara’s heard her speak in hours.

“Dated a lot of delinquents as a teenager,” Sara hears Kendra laugh softly behind her as the wires spark and the engine rumbles to life. Kendra climbs into the passenger seat and smiles at her, soft but a little uneasy.

“I’ve never been a delinquent before.”

“Now’s as good a time as any to start,” Sara answers with a mirrored smile as she puts the car into drive.

 

HUB CITY, TWO DAYS LATER

 

That first night in Hub City they sleep in the car on the edge of town under blankets Sara nicked from a shipping warehouse, nearly upright and propped against each other in the backseat. They’d driven for a full day before deciding on a destination, stopping on and off to switch seats, to get gas and spend what meager money they had on hand for greasy diner food. Between the two of them they only had $10 in cash and most of that has gone to gas, to warm cups of coffee in the early morning.

They move the car during the day to a side street not far from the center of the city and Sara immediately gets to work picking pockets to get them some starter cash. Kendra sits in the park and searches the local paper for wanted ads, keeps her head down, smiles when Sara brings her a Coke and nearly $4 in cash on her first sojourn.

Not long in Sara gets a job at a diner, waiting tables and not killing the men that pinch her ass and call her sweetheart. She only takes the job because Kendra doesn’t want her getting arrested. She wears an apron and a pencil behind her ear and she makes 50 cents an hour plus tips. She works a 12-hour shift her first day and gets back to the car to find Kendra half-asleep in the front seat, newspaper open across her chest.

“How’d it go?” She murmurs as Sara slides into the backseat.

Sara slouches down against the leather, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

Kendra lets out a small laugh as she readjusts to face the back seat. She looks tired, not exhausted but like she’s been dozing in and out for a few hours. She folds the newspaper and hands it to Sara, taps at an ad near the bottom, circled in pencil, “well I think I found us a room.”

“$25 a week? For one room?”

“Do you want to keep sleeping in the car?”

Sara huffs, “what I want is a shower.”

 

FIVE DAYS LATER

 

The room is no bigger than a matchbox. A matchbox with a twin bed and a window with a fire escape and a wardrobe with an extra blanket in the bottom drawer. They'll have to share a bathroom with the floor and a kitchen with the whole house, hot plates are not allowed. The landlady has question after question for them which Kendra answers as sweetly as she can. “Yes, we’ll be sharing the room.” “Yes, we both have jobs.” “We’re both very quiet, don’t worry.” “We don’t keep late hours, I promise.” “No, we don’t have boyfriends.” Sara coughs after the last question and Kendra elbows her in the side as discreetly as she can. The landlady looks like she’s on the verge of asking them ten more questions but Kendra smiles and starts slathering on compliments.

The room is theirs with nearly all their cash up front but Sara has never been happier to see a bed, even if it puffs dusts as soon as she lays down on it.

“Move over,” Kendra calls from across the room as she shuts the door behind her.

Sara scoots over, turning onto her side to give Kendra enough space to squeeze onto the mattress beside her. She lies on her back, shoulder against Sara’s chest, hands loosely laced at her stomach and closes her eyes. Sara counts the freckles on her nose, traces the long bend of her eyelashes as she opens her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. She feels a flutter in her stomach, immediately tamps it down.

They’ve been in and out of the car for a week now, alternating between cramming in the back seat to sleep and sitting in the front to eat dinner and talk about how much 1958 sucks. Because it does suck, no matter how idyllic it might have looked from the future. Sara feels suffocated, silent judgement and whispered disapproval wherever she goes but at least she has a job where people will look her in the eye. Kendra’s just managed to get a job, under the table, 25 cents an hour cleaning hotel rooms and where Sara outwardly curses her job Kendra quietly suffers to herself. She’s only been working two days but already she looks tired, worn around the edges. Sara has a mind to follow her to work one day and set a couple of somebodies straight.

Kendra’s memories of the 50s and 60s are still hazy. She’s shared with Sara what she does remember but it’s more feelings than anything concrete: keeping her head down and her voice quiet, watching her back. The first night she remembered anything it had been a flash while they were walking downtown, Kendra stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbed Sara’s hand so tight her fingernails left crescents pressed into the skin of Sara’s palm. Afterwards she’d been quiet and sullen, like something had been torn from her and later, tucked against Sara’s side in the backseat of their car, she told Sara that Charles, Carter, Khufu, had been lost in the war.

“We have enough money for dinner?” Kendra turns her head and Sara feels the ghost of breath against her lips.

She sits up quickly and turns to riffle through the pocket of her coat. “If by dinner you mean a burger and maybe a Coke then yes.”

“Big spender,” Kendra laughs, the first honest one in days, before stretching a little, back arching up from the mattress and Sara hears a pop as Kendra sighs.

Kendra stands and as she straightens out the front of her dress Sara decides to count their money again. They probably have enough for two Cokes.  

 

FEBRUARY 1958

 

Sara has been through four diners in the past two weeks and the fifth is on its way out as she slams a fork into the thigh of a man snaking his hand up the back of her skirt. The scream he lets out is high and long and Sara snaps a hand over his mouth to cut it short, leaning in to whisper, “you’re lucky the steak knives are in the kitchen.” Then her apron is on the floor and Sara is out the door, her day’s tips shoved hastily into the pocket of her dress. She rounds an alley and sneaks in through the back door to grab her coat and a basket of fries before slipping back out without a sound.

She’s three blocks away when she hears the sirens. The basket of fries, nearly finished, is chucked into a trash bin as Sara flies into another alley and up the fire escape as fast as her dress will allow. She spends an hour on the roof of a dry cleaners, watching the clouds and trying not to catch her death, before she climbs back down and heads home.

Kendra shows up a few hours later when Sara is half asleep in bed, dress abandoned on the chair by the door and covers pulled up to her chin. Kendra moves like the walking dead, heavy limbs and dark eyes and Sara feels an ache in her heart as Kendra walks slowly towards her, kicking off her shoes before climbing into bed and curling up against Sara’s side.

She smells like bleach and moth balls and her hand is rough against Sara’s bicep, calluses forming in all the wrong places. Sara readjusts, moves an arm, slides over to give Kendra a little more space but she barely moves and Sara can feel Kendra’s breath heavy against her chest. She works until midnight most nights, grabbing hours where she can, and comes home exhausted, comes home with a crick in her back and blisters on her heels. Sara doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’s lost another job.

“Hungry?” Sara half-whispers against the top of Kendra’s head.

Kendra hums in response, hot air against Sara’s sternum. She’s already half-asleep, a solid weight against Sara’s side. Sara waits a few minutes before she slips out of bed, leaving Kendra to sleep while she gets changed and heads down the street to the closest bar.

It’s half nine when she makes it inside, a cold wind following her in. The room is brimming with already-tanked factory workers from up the road and a couple of them try to catch her attention as she heads to the bar but Sara shies from their advances and orders a scotch, neat. The bartender has a full white beard, a bald head and deep lines cut into his face. He takes one look at her and makes her drink a double.

“You should be careful around here, girl, not a nice place.” He smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne but his eyes are kind when Sara looks up at him.

“I can handle myself, don’t worry.”

“You can handle yourself?” A second voice sounds from behind her and there’s a sudden heat and pressure against her back. “I’d like to see that.”

The bartender looks like he’s about to object when the man behind Sara makes the unfortunate mistake of brushing his fingers across the nape of her neck. It’s light, not harmful, but intrusive and Sara should shake it off, let the bartender shoo him away but she’s been itching for a fight and her body moves instinctively before she can stop it.

The man has two broken fingers and a knee to the groin before anyone even looks in their direction. He’s howling in pain, cradling his hand to his chest as he crumples to the floor. The bar is quiet for just one small second before the crowd erupts in boisterous laughter.

Sara will never understand men.

“Hey,” the bartender calls out, waving a dish rag in her direction, “you need a job?”

 

VALENTINE’S DAY 1958

 

Sara’s work at the bar, if Sara can really call it work, consists of her pouring drinks and kicking out drunks until midnight. Sam pays her at the end of every shift; it’s not incredible money but it’s better than a diner and the men at the bar know better than to try anything with her. Sara walks the few blocks to the bookstore after every shift and waits just inside the back door for an hour or so while Kendra finishes her work, cataloguing and re-shelving around Sara as she goes.

Kendra’s new job is a godsend. She’s been at it just four days and already she’s got more color in her cheeks despite having to work until 1am nearly every night. But the work is easier on her, body and mind, and most importantly Kendra loves it.

The walk home from work is quieter now, the city still asleep, streetlights blinking in and out thanks to a particularly icy blizzard that rolled through just the day before. Kendra has her arm locked with Sara’s, huddling close for warmth and support as they make their way from the bookstore one harrowing step at a time. They get back to the room and Sara immediately cranks up the radiator as Kendra sheds her coat and boots, shaking the snow off as quietly as she can. Their landlady hadn’t been entirely pleased with their shift in work schedule but as long as they pay their rent on time she keeps her comments to herself.

“Hey,” Sara’s voice is a whisper against the thrum of the radiator. She reaches into her pocket, thumbs the edge of a small package before bringing it out and presenting it to Kendra in an outstretched hand.

Kendra turns, looks from the package up to Sara with a curious expression, “What’s that?” Her voice sing-songs a little and Sara can see the hint of a smile at her lips.

“It’s for you.”

“But-“

Sara interrupts, tries not to stumble over her words, “it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought it would be nice.”

Kendra pulls on a full smile, wide but still curious, as she steps forward to take the gift. She unwraps it carefully and once the brown paper is shucked there’s a small white box sitting in her hands. Inside is a necklace worth a full $5, silver chain and sturdy clasp, a single silver feather charm hanging at the middle.

“Oh,” Kendra says it more to herself than to Sara, her eyes begin to a swell a little and Sara feels her heart seize in her chest. But then Kendra is smiling through the tears, blinking them back as she looks up to Sara, “it’s beautiful.”

Sara swallows, smiles back. “It reminded me of you.”

She wants to say ‘your wings’ but they’re a sensitive subject. The two of them have been cooped up for so long that Kendra hasn’t been able to stretch in weeks. She tried it once when they first got their place but Kendra had opened her wings and immediately hit both walls, the room nowhere close enough to house her wingspan.

Kendra moves forward to hug Sara, warm and firm but before she pulls all the way back she brushes a kiss against Sara’s cheek and Sara feels her ears go hot. Sara closes her eyes, breathes out slowly and focuses on the heat of the radiator at her leg instead of the lingering heat at her cheek. When she opens her eyes Kendra’s turned around, necklace held in a hand dangling over her shoulder, “help me put it on?”

The clasp is tricky for Sara’s still-cold fingers but she manages to unhook it as Kendra pulls her hair up to expose her neck. Sara fits the necklace around, clasping it carefully, fingers ghosting over Kendra’s skin. The smile on Kendra’s face when she turns around makes Sara’s stomach flutter.

“How’s it look?”

Sara clears her throat, “great, you look great.” She turns around, unbuttoning her coat as she goes to hang it up on the hook by the door. She kicks off her boots and when she turns to face Kendra again Kendra’s got this look on her face, happy but curious and Sara can still feel her ears burning, wishes they would stop.

 

MARCH 1958

 

Kendra gets off her shift early on a Tuesday and shows up at the bar, fresh snow tracking in behind her. The bar doesn’t exactly go quiet but she does grab the attention of a fair number of people, especially after Sara literally jumps the bar top to meet her at the door. Sara waves them off without protest and guides Kendra towards the bar where she sits gingerly on a peeling stool.

“This is where you work?” Kendra’s scanning the crowd, the walls, the bar and there’s a quiet look of distaste sitting on her features that makes Sara roll her eyes.

“What kind of place did you think would let a woman bartend _and_ throw men out on their asses?” Sara slides back behind the bar.

“A cleaner one?”

Sara laughs and slides Kendra a beer.

They’re both drunk by eleven, four lost games of some weird dice game and two victorious games of darts between them. Sam threatens to send them home with a chaperone until Sara looks him dead in the eye and throws a dart backwards over her head, hitting the bullseye. The bar cheers and Sara sneaks another shot before Kendra pulls her out the front door.

They nearly fall up the stairs twice they’re standing so close together but Kendra manages to untangle from Sara and open their door before a single shh is uttered. Coats and boots and purses are abandoned by the door and Kendra immediately goes for a bottle of vodka tucked onto a high shelf above the dresser.

“I’m not ready for bed,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sara’s hands fly out in front of her, fingers flexing as she reaches for the bottle, a smile wide on her face. Kendra denies her and takes a swig, her face puckering as she swallows and Sara flings a hand up over her mouth to suppress a laugh. Sara’s swig is longer and she half chokes mid-swallow which Kendra looks concerned about until Sara laughs her way out of a sputtering cough.

Kendra shushes her with a wobbly finger pressed to her lips as she swipes for the bottle and sits on the floor underneath the window. There’s a full moon out and the room is beautiful mix of bright white light and shadows of the fire escape, black lines at sharp angles on the floor. Sara sits against the wall next to Kendra, legs crisscrossed as much as her jeans will let her.

“We should play truth or dare,” Kendra says as she sets the bottle on the floor in front of her.

“Oh come on.”

“Yes, come on, let’s do it. You first,” Kendra turns to face Sara, scooting a little closer so her knee hits Sara’s. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” Sara answers, head starting to spin even as she takes another swig from the bottle.

“What is your favorite color?”

“Really?”

Kendra nods vehemently, “Yes, really. I don’t know your favorite color and I want to know.”

“Blue.”

“What shade?”

Sara shakes her head, “shade? Really?”

Kendra bats her eyes and leans forward, knee bumping Sara’s again, “Please?”

“Robin’s egg blue? I don’t know.”

“Robin’s egg blue, alright, I can remember that. Okay my turn. Truth.”

“I didn’t even ask-,” Sara starts but Kendra’s already taking another drink and waves her off. “Okay fine, what’s _your_ favorite color?”

Kendra’s lips pop from the bottle as she shakes her head, “no, you can’t use my question.”

Sara tries not to roll her eyes. “Okay, what is your favorite thing about 1958?”

Kendra hesitates for a second before answering, “you.” Sara’s dumb butterflies appear abruptly as Kendra smiles at her, a little mischievous but mostly happy, and before Sara can do any follow up Kendra’s bumped her knee again and asked, “Truth or dare?”

The butterflies start fighting with the scorch of vodka in Sara’s mostly empty stomach and Sara definitely feels like she should go to bed but instead she says, “dare.”

Another hesitation, longer this time and Kendra’s eye flit down to Sara’s lips before she says, almost in a whisper, “I dare you to kiss me.”

There’s a rush of something, warm and tight, to the pit of Sara’s stomach and she waits a second to see if Kendra will repeat herself but the dare hangs between them in the quiet air. It’s a horrible, no good, bad idea and Sara knows it but now that Kendra’s said it it’s all that Sara can think about. Kendra looks up at her with wild eyes, dark in shadow and Sara waits another beat more before leaning in, slowly, carefully. Kendra’s hand slips from the bottle to Sara’s knee when Sara’s hovering just a centimeter away from her and then Kendra finds her hand and Sara closes the gap.

Kendra tastes like vodka, sharp and clean. Her lips are soft and her mouth is welcoming and the kiss is everything Sara wishes it weren’t because Kendra is holding her hand and Sara can feel her heart beating in her ears. The kiss releases with a soft pop and Sara pulls back to find Kendra’s eye closed, mouth parted. Her heartbeat is a heavy thump in her chest now, solid and steady and fast and Kendra is still holding her hand as she opens her eyes.

“We should go to bed,” Sara says, voice half lost in her throat. She stands and Kendra lets their hands fall.

\---

Sara starts going to bar off 8th Ave. on her nights off. It’s tucked into a side alley with a black steel door and a light outside that’s off more than it is on. Inside it’s dark, brick walls and black vinyl booths and enough beer to make Sara forget it’s 1958. The clientele is exclusively female, all shapes and sizes and colors but somehow Sara still sticks out like a sore thumb. Within the first half hour of her first visit the bartender knows her by name and three women have tried to buy her drinks. Sara waves them all off, sits at the bar and watches the crowd behind her through the half-shaded mirror opposite her. She goes home smelling of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer and Kendra is awake when she gets home, half-asleep and trying not to look worried as Sara strips down and slides into bed.

There’s more space between them now, as much space as there can be with two grown women in a twin bed. They sleep back to back, barely touching and Sara thinks it’s best that way, thinks the space is safer, healthier. Their walks home from work are quieter, farther apart. Dinner is much the same and Kendra has taken to playing records to fill the silence. Kendra reads in a chair by the window and Sara pretends to do the crossword. There’s an abandoned game of rummy in the corner of the room that neither of them have cleaned up. Sara hopes that things will get better but Kendra always looks like she’s on the verge of asking Sara a question and Sara is always afraid of what that question might be.

Three visits in Sara meets Molly, brown eyes, bright smile and Sara ends up drunk and half naked in a bathroom stall at midnight with her hand down Molly’s pants. Fucking Molly doesn’t feel like a first time, but it feels like something and Sara goes home smelling of lavender perfume, with lipstick smeared down her neck. The next morning Kendra eyes the hickey on her throat like it’s a wound, asks, “you met someone?”

“It’s nothing.” Sara answers, because it’s the truth.

Molly gets replaced by Gretchen who gets replaced by Susan and then down the line Sara forgets to ask their names. They neck in corner booths with Sara’s hand dangerously high up a stockinged thigh. Sometimes they fuck in the restroom, hot and fast and Sara gets used to the cool metal of the stall against her back, afterwards, when the girl is gone and Sara stays to catch her breath, to tell herself it’s better this way.

Sara gets home at half two in the morning on a Tuesday, still drunk and reeking of cigar smoke and some flowery menace of a perfume. Kendra is asleep until Sara sits down on the edge of the bed to take her shoes off and she wakes with a groan, disgust dripping from the sound it.

“You need to stop.”

Sara’s hands still at her laces and she looks up, “What?”

Kendra turns to face Sara, sits up, and in the moonlight Sara can see the remnants of her freckles, still holding on despite winter’s disappearing sun. “You need to stop.” Kendra repeats, her voice a hard edge.

Sara’s full of scotch tonight and her thoughts are sick with it, slow and heavy in her head, “what are you talking about?”

“This,” Kendra waves a hand at her, “drinking, staying out late, and-“

“And?”

Kendra closes her eyes and sighs. Her hands are bunched up in the comforter, forearms flexed and Sara feels the question before she hears it, softer, almost hesitant: “Is it because of the kiss?”

The knot in Sara’s stomach pulls taut.

“We kissed and then you stopped-,” Kendra pauses until she can find the rest of her sentence, “everything. You stopped looking me in the eye. You stopped touching me. You stopped _talking_ to me.

Sara, you don’t talk to me.” Kendra’s voice breaks and there are tears on her cheeks and Sara feels like the biggest asshole the world has ever seen. Because she is, has been, for days, for weeks. She pulled back quickly, withdrew almost to her limit and Kendra was left, without explanation, to share her space with the shadow of a person.

“Kendra,” Sara whispers, shifting a little higher on the bed. “Kendra, I’m sorry.”

When she reaches for Kendra’s hands there’s a quiet sob, a whimper of a noise that’s more a shallow exhale of breath than a sound and Sara’s heart wrenches. Kendra’s hands contract with each silent sob, nails digging into the flesh of Sara’s wrists, her palms. Sara moves up again, shifting until the hand-holding can become a hug, until Sara can wrap her arms around Kendra’s back and hold her. Kendra cries into Sara’s shoulder, hands fisted tight in Sara’s flannel, and Sara whispers “I’m sorry” against her hair, over and over.

They stay like that until Kendra moves, slowly backwards just enough to rest her forehead against Sara’s. Their breath is hot between them and Sara can smell scotch and the salt of Kendra’s tears, tastes it as she leans that little bit forward to kiss Kendra.

It’s slow, hesitant, but then Kendra responds and every inch of Sara’s body feels like it’s on fire. Kendra kisses her back and it’s still slow but in a languorous way, like she’s taking her time, like she’s soaking Sara in. Their hands are between them now, half-tangled in each other, half-fisted in the other’s clothes and Sara can’t believe she let herself go so long without touching Kendra. The hand at Kendra’s nightgown moves up to cradle her cheek and Kendra stops mid-kiss just to lean into it. She sighs against Sara’s lips, “took you long enough.”

Sara runs her thumb lightly along Kendra’s jaw, “sorry.”

“Apologize more tomorrow,” Kendra yawns, “it’s 3 in the morning.” Then she pulls away and Sara takes that as her cue to finally take her shoes off. She takes off a little more too and Kendra watches with rapt attention, eyes in shadow but she’s smiling when Sara crawls back into bed. Kendra presses up against her, entwines their legs and leans up to kiss Sara again softly. “Goodnight.”

Sara kisses the top of Kendra’s head, “night.”

 

SPRING EQUINOX 1958

 

Sara wakes up to a cold breeze blowing in through the open window, the chill of it hits her exposed skin and sends a shiver down her spine. She also wakes up to Kendra half on top of her, a solid weight against her chest and stomach _and_ legs. Basically the entire right side of her body is being held prisoner, but in a comfortable way.

“Kendra,” Sara whispers against the top of Kendra’s head.

After a few seconds of silence Sara wiggles her right hand, trying to gauge where exactly it’s ended up. Kendra startles at that movement, back arching to flee the tickling sensation against her lower back. Sara’s arm is freed a little in the process but she doesn’t pull it loose, instead she scratches at Kendra’s back again and whispers, “good morning, sleepy head.”

Kendra’s response is a groan of disapproval, the sound muffled as she curls around Sara a little tighter and tucks her face into both the comforter and Sara’s shirt.

Things are easier now, warmer, softer and there’s a lightness in Sara’s chest because of it. There are still little moments of uncertainty between them, remnants of Sara’s broody absenteeism try to sneak back in, but every day is better than the last. Kendra kisses her goodnight and braids her hair and generally just smiles at her more which makes everything a little brighter in itself. But the thing is, living with Kendra post-kiss, post-reconciliation is almost an entirely different experience. She’s all hands and no boundaries.

It was gentle touches at first: at Sara’s back, on her arm, her thigh, in her hair. The sudden influx of attention had startled Sara at first, almost overwhelmed her but as the days progressed Sara realized that Kendra touching her was just a form of silent communication. A hand on her knee was meant to settle, on her back to reassure, on her arm to agree. A hand in her hair was usually the precursor to something a little more intimate where touching was then only for the sake of touching.

Cuddling in bed isn’t necessarily new, but where once they had simply woken up tangled in each other now Sara goes to bed with Kendra wrapped around her. Kendra runs cold too, which means that she isn’t just wrapped, she’s tucked and she fights to stay that way.

Sara moves a little more this time, scooting back and up to finally free her arm and to attempt to rouse Kendra again. “I think it’s gonna rain,” Sara says as she looks out the window, hand moving to play with the hair at the back of Kendra’s neck.

She gets a actual response this time. “Really?” Kendra’s voice is half caught in her throat and she clears it as she lifts her head to look out the window. The curtains are still mostly closed but there’s a sliver of grey sky peeking through, clouds heavily-laden with fresh spring rain yet to fall. Kendra shifts a little, removing a leg from between Sara’s and rotating her torso to free the arm she’s laying on. She pulls the comforter up to cover her shoulders and lays her head back down onto Sara’s chest. “What about the picnic?”

“Probably not a good idea.”

The first day of spring was supposed to be sunny. Not warm, but sunny and dry and so Sara had planned a picnic in the park. A nice lazy couple hours of listening to the radio and eating neatly packed food from a wicker basket and holding hands underneath a blanket. But the sun isn’t out and it won’t be dry for long so Sara’s slowly raking her mind for replacement ideas. There isn’t much for them to do when the weather is like this, there are card games and records inside or the movies but she’d rather get out and there aren’t any good films out yet.

“You wanna do burgers instead?” Kendra’s got a hand on Sara’s hip now, safely tucked under the covers, fingers scratching lightly against her hip bone. “I could go for a milkshake.”

“Of course you could,” Sara answers. Kendra looks up to her with a smile and then she leans up and there’s a kiss, a quiet good morning and an agreement all at once.

It takes them a little while longer to get out of bed but once Sara gets up to close the window and make them coffee Kendra’s follows suit, robe closed tightly around her. Their very against the rules hot plate takes a while to heat up the percolator so Kendra huddles against Sara for warmth as they wait impatiently for their caffeine. There’s coffee, then mostly-warm showers and the rain starts to fall just as Sara is helping Kendra do up the zipper on the back of her dress.

“You’re lucky Garfield’s is just three blocks away,” Sara tuts as she looks out the window.

“You agreed to the diner,” Kendra shoots back.

“You’re hard to deny.”

“Oh yeah?” Kendra turns around and takes a step towards Sara, pressing into her front just enough that Sara has to hold onto Kendra’s hips to keep her balance.

They kiss once, full and lingering. “Yeah,” Sara agrees against Kendra’s lips.

“Then you get to hold the umbrella _and_ we’re getting two baskets of fries.”

Sara shakes her head as she laughs, “whatever the lady says.”

Garfield’s is nearly empty when they finally get there, the weather keeping the lunch rush at bay. After shaking off the rain and hanging up their coats Kendra grabs a couple menus and they seat themselves in a side booth. Garfield’s is their favorite diner for two reasons: first it’s one of the few diners in the city where Sara can tag along with Kendra without getting unwelcome looks; second, Kendra has made friends with every member of the wait staff and kitchen plus the owner so she essentially has run of the place. Kendra also swears by their strawberry milkshakes.

Ruby takes their order after catching up with Kendra and their food arrives just as a gaggle of soaking patrons enter the front door, the clatter of the rain booming in through the open door. Sara, unsurprisingly, is starving. Her cheeseburger is delicious and also gone within five minutes so Sara’s left picking at French fries while Kendra eats at the speed of a normal human. The two baskets of fries last just long enough for Kendra to get halfway through her milkshake and that’s when things start going downhill.

Kendra isn’t so much drinking her milkshake as she is looking at Sara and tonguing her straw. There is drinking involved but it’s gradual and definitely secondary to the lascivious treatment of Kendra’s straw and Sara can’t look away. Kendra’s also got a stocking-clad foot, free of shoe, rubbing against Sara’s calf under the table. Honestly Sara used to be all for public flirtation but this is just too much for her to handle, especially since Kendra insists she needs to finish every drop of her milkshake before they leave.

“Kendra.” Sara’s voice is quiet but pleading and Kendra just smiles at her, straw perched against her bottom lip.

“I paid for this milkshake, I’m going to drink all of it.” Kendra takes a nice long drink then but she’s still looking at Sara with those _eyes_ and Sara has to a take a deep a breath to settle herself.

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“You like it, though.” Another sip then Kendra reaches down and pulls the whipped cream smeared cherry from inside her glass. She pops the cherry in her mouth and pulls the stem free, smiling all the while and Sara knows what she’s going to do next so she stares down at their almost-empty fry baskets and tries to find something worth eating. Sara sees the stem disappear out of the corner of her eye and despite her better judgement she looks back up at Kendra just in time to see it reappear in a neatly tied knot.

Kendra smiles at her and takes another long drink of her milkshake as she sets the cherry stem in the basket of fries in front of Sara. The devil is real and her name is Kendra Saunders.

 

APRIL 1958

 

Over the past week Sara’s been sneaking out in the early morning hours to scope out a place in the woods on the outskirts of town. It’s more of a clearing than a meadow, small but secluded and the snow has all but melted into the stream nearby. Sara brings Kendra there on a Thursday before work and the smile on her face gets so bright that Sara’s convinced it can be seen from space.

“You’re sure no one can see us?” Kendra’s already taking her coat off. She’s got on one of Sara’s shirts, a pair of sweatpants Sara managed to find at a local charity shop plus a pair of Chuck Taylor’s a size too big and she couldn’t look more adorable if she tried.

“I promise,” Sara answers and as soon as she says it Kendra’s in the air, the down gust of her wings so strong and sudden it pushes Sara backwards a little. Kendra gets up as high as she can without breaking the tree line then swoops down, repeating the motion a few times until she lands in a run and tackles Sara to the ground in a series of excited kisses. There’s a muffled “thank you” between the kisses somewhere in there and Sara is laughing against Kendra’s lips by the end of the attack. “Does that mean you like it?”

Kendra sits up and readjusts to straddle Sara’s hips, the feathers at the tips of her wings brushing against Sara’s shins. “Obviously.” Kendra stretches her wings out to their full span, flexes them a couple times and Sara sits up on her elbows to watch them, to watch Kendra. The past couple weeks have been a sea of lazy morning cuddling and handsy make outs and handsier almosts shoved onto their miniscule twin bed. She hasn’t intentionally been taking things slowly but she likes where they are, despite how great it would be to actually see Kendra naked.

Sara shifts her hips under Kendra, bucking up a little to catch her attention and when Kendra looks down at her she almost looks offended that she’s being asked to move. Kendra slowly removes herself and once she’s standing she offers a hand to help pull Sara to her feet. “If we had staves,” Kendra starts, sentence cut off as she turns to look at the woods surrounding them.

“We don’t need staves.”

Kendra turns and she’s already smiling, an impish little grin that tells Sara things are about to get fun. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sara launches at Kendra with a high kick and Kendra ducks it, spins out and goes for a quick gut punch that Sara easily dodges. They spin around each other in a series of kicks and punches, low to high to higher when Kendra uses her wings to weasel out of a particularly vicious set of kicks Sara starts on her. Kendra comes back in with enough force to knock Sara on her back and then the wings disappear and they’re grappling in wet grass, sliding against each other and the ground. Sara goes for a chokehold and Kendra slips out of it, tries for one of her own in return. They wrestle until Sara gets Kendra fully pinned to the ground, arms above her head and legs flailing for purchase. Sara has the idea but she sees Kendra’s response before she even acts, her pupils are wide and she’s literally licking her lips when Sara goes in for that first kiss. It starts hot, tongues and teeth and Kendra struggling underneath her, wriggling her hips to try to get free, fingernails biting into the flesh of Sara’s hands in an attempt to free hers so Kendra can touch her.

Kendra groans into Sara’s mouth, body arching up and that’s when Sara finally lets her go. Kendra’s hands surge to Sara’s body, an almost magnetic pull guides them straight to Sara’s ass and Kendra squeezes, pulls Sara closer. Sara, momentarily distracted by Kendra’s tongue in her mouth, is pleasantly surprised when Kendra manages to flip her to her back in one swift motion. The thump of her body against the ground breaks Sara’s focus just enough for her to realize that even though everything about Kendra sitting on top of her is glorious there’s nothing fun about making out in cold wet grass. “Hey,” Sara says quickly before Kendra can swoop in for another kiss. “You wanna take this to the car?”

“Oh so now that _you_ have to lay in the grass you want to move?” Kendra’s eyebrows are cocked and if her hands weren’t already halfway up Sara’s shirt they’d be sitting on her hips.

Sara sits up on her elbows, gives Kendra a little smile. “We haven’t made out in the car yet, you wanna waste this perfect opportunity?”

Kendra rolls her eyes but starts standing up, “I still get to be on top once we get there.”

“You think I’m gonna complain about that?”

The walk to the car isn’t nearly as fast as Sara would like it but Kendra holds her hand all the way there and once they’re in the backseat Kendra is quick to make up for lost time. Her hands are fast up Sara’s shirt again, playing at the wire of Sara’s bra as Sara scoots around to give Kendra more space to settle her knees. The kissing starts off playful, Kendra alternating nibbling on Sara’s bottom lip with quick pecks up her jaw and back down. Her nails are scratching against Sara’s ribs, hands warm despite the temperature outside and Sara arches into her. Sara’s the one who starts in with the tongue and then it’s all open mouths and Sara’s hands in Kendra’s hair for long, heady minutes.

Sara keens in Kendra’s mouth, feels heat way down low in her belly and cranes her neck back to give Kendra a little better access as she noses her way up Sara’s jaw. When Sara looks up the window behind her is fogged and Sara remembers that while the clearing she found was secluded they had to park their car on a dirt side road and there might have been a sign saying something about private property at the start of it. It takes all of Sara’s effort to lift her arms and push Kendra up but she does it, “how about we take this home?”

Kendra looks down at Sara with utter exasperation, pupils still wide and lipstick beyond smeared. “What, the backseat isn’t good enough for you now?”

“No,” Sara protests, scooting backwards to sit up, “it’s just that we might be on private property.”

“You’re worried about us trespassing? You?”

“I _know_ ,” Sara leans forward, kisses Kendra softly, “but wouldn’t it be nice to get out of these wet clothes?” Another kiss, “we could light a fire,” another kiss, “put on a record.”

Kendra hums against her mouth, winds a hand in her hair and kisses Sara slow and deep. “That does sound nice,” Kendra says against her lips.

“Home it is.”

Sara tries to get them home in decent time but there’s traffic and some kind of festival going on and it’s nearly an hour later that they finally get into the apartment. Clothing is shed and a fire is started and there’s a slight quarrel over what record to put on until Kendra puts on Miles Davis’ _Round About Midnight_ and starts dancing around the room in her underwear. There’s no arguing with that.

Sara’s all smiles when she sidles up to Kendra, taking her hips and moving in close to swing around the room in a slow, easy dance. They manage to keep in rhythm with the music for a whole minute before Sara starts kissing her way up Kendra’s neck then it’s straight to the bed.

There’s not much fight to who tops first because Kendra is unsurprisingly eager to get her hands on Sara again. There’s a little necking, nuzzling more than anything as Kendra drags herself down Sara’s body mouth first until she hits her navel. After a little readjusting Kendra finds the angle she wants and once she’s settled she mouths her way up Sara’s abdomen, slow and wet. Sara’s bra, a satin monstrosity, is pushed aside as far as it can go and then Kendra kisses her way across smooth skin. There’s sucking and licking and a whole assortment of positively sensational mouth work up and down Sara’s breasts before Kendra makes her way up to Sara’s mouth again.

It’s not like Sara’s unfamiliar with how great a mouth can feel on her body it’s just that it’s Kendra. Former barista, winged warrior woman, once was straight but now is sucking on Sara’s tongue so everything’s a little _more_ than it was before.

Sara’s heart is hammering in her chest and her stomach is in nervous knots. She’s warm in all the right places and her nerve endings are responding in all the right ways but it’s almost too much and Sara feels herself panicking. She wills it away, tries to focus on Kendra’s lips at her neck, the feel of Kendra’s bare skin under her hands but the panic is there, creeping into her warm spaces and trying to unravel her. But before Sara can actually do anything about it Kendra’s stopping, sitting up between Sara’s legs and looking down at her with kind eyes. She places a hand flat against Sara’s sternum, right above her heart. “Hey,” her voice is almost a whisper, “it’s okay.”

Sara doesn’t realize she’s crying until Kendra reaches down to wipe at her eye, thumbing away fresh tears. “We can stop,” she says and makes to move but Sara’s hands are fast to Kendra’s forearms, holding her in place.

“No,” Sara’s thumbs rub absentmindedly against the skin of Kendra’s wrists as Kendra wipes at her cheek again. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

It’s the concern that settles her, Kendra willing to stop and literally ask to make sure she’s alright. There’s no guessing, Kendra wants to know with certainty whether or not Sara wants her and that just makes Sara want her more.

Sara sniffles once then smiles and tugs at Kendra’s forearms a little, “yes. Now come back down here.” Then Kendra leans down to kiss her again and just like that the knots are gone and the warm feelings are everywhere, unencumbered and settling back into all Sara’s softest bits.

Kendra drapes herself on top of Sara, kisses her slow until Sara’s hands start wandering and the warm feelings start turning hot low in her belly. Kendra slides to Sara’s side, kisses up her jaw to her ear then sucks at her earlobe while her hand slips down Sara’s torso inch by inch. It’s a slow crawl but there’s no pausing and Kendra’s hand slides beneath Sara’s underwear in one steady motion, directly to its mark. Sara’s embarrassingly wet despite her moment of panic and Kendra’s fingers slip-slide against her as she maps out her new found territory. Kendra’s a quick study and she starts at Sara’s clit in easy circles, pressure light and almost teasing. Sara’s hips tilt to get more pressure and Kendra takes the hint, goes a little harder, a little faster and she’s got Sara panting into her neck after just a few more seconds of work.

The pressure builds and builds and builds and Kendra’s name slips from Sara’s lips as she comes, face tucked against Kendra’s shoulder, teeth biting into soft skin and Kendra hisses at the pain of it but she doesn’t stop. When it’s done, aftershocks settled and Sara’s breath coming out in hot bursts Sara kisses the bite, licks at the red skin, at Kendra’s pulse point.

Sara gives herself a few moments of respite tucked against Kendra before she moves, careful to slip from under Kendra then down to the floor so she can kneel in front of her. Kendra moves to lay on her back and looks down at Sara with hooded eyes as she lifts her hips obediently when Sara tugs at the waistband of her underwear. Sara kisses up the inside of Kendra’s thighs until she finds wet skin. She’s tentative at first, explorative, curious but when she looks up she sees Kendra watching her with such lust in her eyes that Sara can’t help but give it her all.

The bed gives threatening squeaks with every one of their movements, the metal frame pleading for mercy but Sara has no intention of stopping. She works at Kendra with everything she’s got, lips and tongue and hands, slow and steady to start off but as soon as Kendra starts bucking her hips Sara speeds it up. She’s never been one to deny. Kendra comes with a hand over her mouth, a guttural moan deep and hot muffled against it. Her body clenches and Sara holds on tight as her hips arch up from the bed, keeps working her tongue until Kendra’s gently twitching her way through aftershocks. Afterwards she crawls up Kendra’s body with a smile on her face, kissing from navel to neck and then up but before she can kiss Kendra properly Kendra’s got two hands on her face, holding her still.

“You’re way too good at that,” Kendra’s voice is all breath and Sara can feel her heart beating, the heavy thump vibrating up against Sara’s own chest.

“You’re welcome,” then the kiss, slow and deep and Kendra’s hands slide into Sara’s hair.

Kendra hums against Sara’s lips as she kisses her again, bumps their noses and scratches at the back of Sara’s head. “We should’ve done this a lot sooner.”

“How many times do I need to say sorry?”

“No, no,” Kendra laughs, “no more apologizing.”

“You sure? Because I know other ways I can apologize,” Sara’s hand moves up from Kendra’s hip to cup her breast and she thumbs a nipple, taut against restricting fabric. Kendra involuntarily arches against the sensation.

“Well, in that case,” Kendra smiles, kisses Sara again, “you go right ahead.”

 

MAY 1958

 

There’s nothing safe about the fire escape outside their south window but that doesn’t stop Kendra from sitting on it to read, especially when it’s sunny out. She’s got her back to the building, the cushion from their only chair under her and a blanket over her lap as she pours over her latest find. Sara’s never read any Agatha Christie but Kendra has started a small collection of her mysteries in a little stack by the window, each copy dog-eared and yellowing in the sun.

Sara’s been trying to beat a game of Solitaire for the past half hour but hasn’t made any progress thanks in part to the fact that Kendra is so engrossed in her novel she’s started biting her bottom lip. Sara abandons her game on the floor and moves for the window, hands against the sill as she leans out kiss Kendra’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

Kendra’s response is a hum, her eyes still fixed on her book.

Pushing up from the sill Sara crawls out onto the fire escape and sits opposite Kendra, back against the outer railing. Her legs are outstretched, calf pressed against Kendra’s knee and she knocks against her playfully. Kendra holds a finger up and Sara leans her head back against the railing, eyes to the slatted floor above and the blue sky filtering in through it.

After another solid minute Kendra finally responds, “what?”

Sara leans forward, elbows to knees, “How’s your book?”

Kendra smiles, “you’re bored, aren’t you?”

“I’ve played more games of Solitaire today than any sane person should.”

Kendra’s whole face lights up when she laughs. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“Please?”

“Only if you buy me a Coke while we’re out.”

“Promise,” Sara’s up from her seat and through the window before Kendra even closes her book.

It takes a few minutes for Kendra to clean up her nook and change into something a little more presentable then they’re out the door. Their usual route is nearly a mile, up the block towards the bar then past into the park where Sara takes care in keeping Kendra close at hand. It isn’t unsafe for them to be there during the day but it’s a pretty popular homeless hotspot and they’re not as racially friendly as the rest of the neighborhood sometimes. Kendra, for the most part, ignores Sara’s overprotectiveness and instead uses their close proximity as an excuse to brush their hands together as they walk. Nothing conspicuous but just frequent enough that Sara notices the absence of it as soon as they hit busy streets again. Sara buys them each a Coke at a convenience store a block away from the park and then they wind through a few narrower blocks to get riverside. Sara made herself familiar with the landscape of the warehouse district after only a few days in Hub City and the dock they head towards is a mostly abandoned safety hazard of a thing tucked against the district’s far side.

They sit at the edge and pop open their drinks, bottle caps stacked on top of each other between them. Sara takes a long pull and then looks out over the river to a pair of ships making their way to docks a little further down. The water is a little choppy today but the skies are blue ahead of them and the breeze is warm.

“You never told me how your book was.”

“Did you actually want to know?”

Sara mocks offense, “of course I did.”

“I’m already halfway through if that gives you any idea,” Kendra says with a smile before taking a sip of her drink.

“Okay but do you like it?” Kendra reaches over to punch Sara in the shoulder and Sara scrunches her face up, groans an exaggerated “ow” as Kendra pulls her hand back.

There’s a rumble behind them, low and long and Sara’s head snaps around so fast she gets a crick in her neck. There’s a thunderhead rolling in, dark and menacing a couple miles out and Sara can’t believe their luck.

“Mother Nature has something against us,” Sara mutters as she stands, offering a hand to Kendra to pull her up.

“It’s far away, we’ll be fine.”

Sara grins, “You wanna bet?”

Kendra finally grabs Sara’s proffered hand and pulls herself up. “We get home dry and you do the dishes for a week.”

“We get home wet and you give me back massages for a week.”

Kendra hops a little, turning to Sara and waving her hands in a little stop motion, “Oh, wait, I wanna change mine!”

“Terms are set, you missed your chance, cupcake.”

“Fine,” Kendra turns back around, full pout plastered on her face and Sara laughs softly at her.

They’re two blocks from home when the storm hits. There’s no warning sprinkle or even a slow start, there’s a crack of thunder and then torrential downpour, from zero to one hundred. They hold hands as they run down the street, scurrying between the other poor souls caught unawares and when they make it up to the apartment they’re soaked to the bone. Sara’s smiling from ear to ear when they get inside and Kendra looks like she wants to slap the smile right off her face.

“We’re soaked, you know, you shouldn’t be happy about this.” Kendra plucks at the fabric of her dress sticking to her thighs.

Sara’s already shedding layers, toeing off her shoes and unbuttoning her shirt. “Back massages though.”

“You’re still doing the dishes,” Kendra mumbles as she reaches for the zipper on the back of her dress. She can’t quite reach it so Sara steps in to the rescue, a hand at Kendra’s lower back to keep her still as she tugs the zipper. The water’s gone straight through Kendra’s dress, her back dewy with cold rain as Sara helps peel the fabric back.

Sara kisses the top of her spine, “yeah, I know.”

 

JULY 1958

 

“I can’t believe it.” They’re halfway through the door when Kendra stops to stare in awe at their new place. Sara has two bags and one box worth of their meager belongings piled on top of her and she nearly drops it all as she lurches to a halt, inches away from barreling into Kendra’s back.

“Believe it inside, please,” Sara knees Kendra in the thigh to get her to move forward and she takes a couple stunted steps further in, setting her only baggage, a small potted palm, on the windowsill next to the door. Sara shuffles in slowly, setting everything down as carefully as she can before closing the door behind them.

Their new apartment, an actual _proper_ apartment not just a room, has its own full kitchen and bathroom and a stellar view from the living room but most importantly, in a small room off the kitchen, there sits a beautiful double bed. Sara would like to think they could’ve gotten a place like this on their own eventually but she’s more than grateful that the building’s owner just so happens to owe Sam a couple hundred dollars in poker losses. Kendra had almost kissed the old man right on the mouth when he’d told them the place was theirs with a few months of rent paid up. Sara still can’t believe his generosity but then again he’s been nothing but kind to her and Kendra since they first met so it was almost inevitable. Still, Sara’s promised Sam a couple free shifts at work and a lesson or two of darts to thank him.

Kendra is going to be baking him cookies for months.

While Kendra’s cooing over how cute the kitchen is Sara makes a beeline for the bedroom and collapses on top of their fabulous new bed. She starfishes immediately, limbs spread out on springy luxury, soaking in the feel of proper back support and copious legroom.

“Oh Sara come on, that thing is probably filthy, at least wait until we can put a sheet on it.” Kendra’s leaning in the doorway to the bedroom, shaking her head as Sara turns to look at her.

“It’s so big.”

Kendra scoffs, “It’s only a double, it’s not that big.”

Propping herself up on her elbows Sara narrows Kendra with a dirty look, “Anything that isn’t a twin is big, Kendra.”

Kendra cocks an eyebrow, nods her head, “true.”

They unpack as much as they can, clothes in the closet, miscellaneous dishes in the kitchen. Little trinkets sit on the windowsill with the palm and the records stay in their box. Sara puts fresh sheets on the bed and she’s seconds away from curling up on it when Kendra calls her into the living room. She’s standing by the front windows again, looking out as the sun sets on the buildings down the street. Sara comes up behind Kendra, wrapping her arms around her waist and setting her chin on Kendra’s shoulder.

“You should’ve let me kiss Sam,” Kendra says as she slides her hands over Sara’s forearms, prying her fingers up a little so she can lace their hands together against her stomach.

“I don’t want him getting any ideas,” Sara responds, kissing Kendra’s neck softly.

 

THANKSGIVING 1958

 

Sara isn’t a chef, hell she isn’t even a cook but somehow Kendra managed to get a day shift on Thanksgiving and Sara is determined that she come home to a proper dinner. A pie from Kendra’s favorite bakery is sitting in the fridge and there’s not much skill to making mashed potatoes or cooking green beans but apparently cooking a turkey requires a skill set that Sara just does not possess. She got a late start to the game thanks to a very pushy woman at the grocery store but she came home with a 5lb frozen turkey and it’s been defrosting for _hours_. Sara bought a cookbook specifically to figure out how to cook the turkey but somehow it glossed over how long the whole process would actually take.

The turkey is sitting on the counter maybe half-defrosted when the clock strikes 4pm leaving Sara just under two hours to get everything ready for Kendra. There’s no way the turkey will be able to defrost and also get cooked in those two hours so Sara decides that she’ll put the turkey in the oven and just crank up the heat and hope for the best.

The first hour is fine, Sara cleans the living room and sets the table and makes the bed. She even starts cutting potatoes and it’s nearly 5pm when the smoke appears, thin wisps sneaking out from the oven. When Sara opens the oven door she’s hit with a wall of black smoke, plumes thick and hot billowing out of the oven and stinging her eyes. She backs up against the kitchen island and reaches blindly behind her for a dishrag to wave through the air, dissipating the smoke just enough that she can see the kitchen window. She rushes to it and flings it open, starts waving the rag at the smoke in an effort to shoo it out the window and after a few seconds the bulk of the smoke is gone but the kitchen and most of the living room is still under a light haze.

It takes Sara a couple extra seconds to actually check the inside of the oven and when she does she finds her turkey, burnt to a crisp. Dejectedly, she turns off the oven and lets her head loll back, staring up at the ceiling as she half-heartedly keeps fanning at the remaining smoke.

There’s a clamor by the door and Sara quickly whips around to find Kendra rushing through it, “are you okay?”

Sara sighs, “I’m fine.”

“I saw the smoke, I thought the building was on fire.”

“Just the turkey,” Sara uses the rag to pull the turkey out of the oven, setting it on the stove top with a heavy clunk.

“The turkey?” Kendra moves a little closer, eyebrows knitting in concern as she eyes the black, still smoking mass, “oh, Sara.”

“I was going to surprise you. I didn’t even have time to make anything else.”

Kendra closes the distance between them and leans into Sara’s side. She slings an arm around the small of Sara’s back, hand moving to hold steady at her hip. “What else were you going to make?”

Sara tilts her head to rest against Kendra’s shoulder and waves her rag at the potatoes on the counter, “mashed potatoes and green beans.”

“That would’ve been nice.” Kendra kisses the side of her head.

“There’s a cherry pie too, in the fridge.”

“You got me a pie?”

“From Stevenson’s.”

Kendra kisses her head again, “you know we could still make the other stuff. We don’t need the turkey.”

“But it’s Thanksgiving, there’s always a turkey.”

“We’ll pretend we’re vegetarian.”

“I was going to cook the green beans with bacon.”

“Okay, we’re bacon-exempt vegetarians.”

Sara laughs and turns into Kendra, nuzzling at her neck. Kendra’s arms move up to encircle her in a hug, holding her close. “You’re sure?” Sara asks, kissing just under Kendra’s jaw.

“We’ll just eat more pie to make up for it.”

Another laugh and another kiss, “deal.”

 

CHRISTMAS 1958

 

“This is the cutest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen in all my entire lives.” Kendra’s got her hands on a tree that only comes up to her waist and it’s nearly as fat as it is tall.

“It looks more like a bush,” Sara runs a gloved hand across the outside of it and a shower of needles falls to the ground.

“It just needs a little trim and look it’s only $6.”

“Our budget is only $10, you know that right?”

“Exactly, so we’ve got $4 for garland and lights or whatever. Just look at it,” Kendra’s holding it in front of her now, leaning it against her legs and she looks so pleased with it that Sara has no choice but to say yes.

“If you think you can make $4 work for decorations then fine but if we get it home and you aren’t happy with it I am not returning it.”

“Fine, _mom_ ,” Kendra says with a pointed look. “You get to carry it.”

Before Sara can think to protest Kendra’s pranced off to pay and the tree falls against Sara’s legs. It’s Christmas Eve, nearly 7pm and Sara’s honestly surprised there were any trees at all left for them to buy. Granted the tree they did get is definitely a reject but as Sara carries it into their apartment, shedding needles as it goes, Kendra’s got the biggest smile on her face.

“I didn’t think you celebrated Christmas,” Sara says as she props the tree up in the corner of the living room. They don’t have a stand but they do have a bucket that Kendra filled with water and that will just have to do.

“Not usually, I haven’t since I was a kid,” after a few seconds’ pause, “in this lifetime.” Kendra’s digging around in a paper bag on the couch, pulling out bits of gold garland and a single string of lights. “Plus, it’s hard to believe in a singular God when my whole identity is based on a competing religion but I thought it might be fun.” The last thing she pulls out of the bag is a gold star tree topper, a little crooked but nonetheless in good shape.

“Tell me you didn’t spend $4 on just that stuff?”

Kendra almost looks offended but she shakes her head, “no, I also got something else but that’s for later.”

“Oh yeah?”

Kendra scrunches her nose, “Yeah, now help me decorate the tree.”

It takes more time to string the lights than it does to do anything else, especially once Kendra literally just starts flinging the tinsel on with reckless abandon. There’s a lot more of it on Kendra’s side than Sara’s but Kendra doesn’t seem to mind as she pops the little star on top.

“It’s perfect!” Kendra bounces on her heels and claps her hands.

Sara shakes her head but she’s smiling, “so what now?”

“Now it’s time for eggnog and _White Christmas_.”

“Eggnog?”

“I made it myself.”

“You can _make_ eggnog?”

“I put a lot of rum in it.”

“Now you’re talking.”

While Kendra fetches their drinks Sara goes into the bedroom to grab Kendra’s gift. She isn’t usually one for Christmas either but there’s something about Kendra that makes Sara want to shower her with presents. When she comes out Kendra’s already sitting on their couch sipping on her eggnog and smiling up at Sara with the sappiest grin.

“You got me a present,” she says.

“Of course I did,” Sara answers with a smile as she goes to set the box under the Christmas tree. It looks a little lonely by itself but despite the constant shower of needles the lower branches of the tree are so thick that it kind of blends into the shadows once Sara’s back on the couch. Kendra hands her the eggnog as the tv starts in with the opening credits to _White Christmas_ and Sara tries to remember if she’s actually seen this movie before. She recognizes Bing Crosby immediately and while the music is entertaining the plot is a little tired so after a few minutes Sara’s more interested in Kendra cuddling into her side than she is in the plot.  Also her eggnog might be more rum than nog so there’s a nice fuzzy feeling settling into her limbs.

When Sara wakes up nearly two hours later the movie’s end credits are rolling and Kendra has disappeared. Sara sits up a little and wipes the sleep from her eyes but before she can call out for Kendra there’s a creak in the kitchen. When she turns to identify it she finds Kendra standing nearly naked against the counter, a bright red bow tied around her breasts, the tail ends of the ribbon conveniently long enough to cover Kendra’s missing underwear.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” Kendra’s got that beautiful mischievous smile on that Sara loves.

“So is this the secret thing you bought?”

Kendra makes her way towards Sara slowly, careful not to sway her ribbons too much as she nudges Sara’s knees to get her to sit straight. One Sara’s upright Kendra straddles her lap carefully and Sara’s hands make short time smoothing up Kendra’s thighs before settling on her hips. “It’s the first part of your present.”

“I don’t think I need any other parts,” Sara says, leaning forward to nose at the ribbon and kiss the apex of Kendra’s collar bones.

“Not even if those other parts also involve me being naked?”

“They do?”

Kendra laughs, slides her hands up Sara’s arms then over her shoulders and carefully up her neck to cup her face. She kisses Sara, soft and warm, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Sara wants to cast her vote in favor of more nudity but Kendra quickly deepens the kiss and readjusts to sit a little closer to Sara, the top of her ribbon tickling Sara under her chin. Sara’s hands move up Kendra’s sides until they find the ribbon then between them until Sara can tug on the ends. The bow doesn’t so much loosen as it does fall down to Kendra’s waist but Sara doesn’t care because when Kendra leans back Sara is face to face with her breasts.

“Merry Christmas Eve to me,” Sara says before closing the gap between them.

 

JANUARY 1959

 

“You forgot to buy milk again,” Kendra groans as she shuts the fridge, a dry bowl of cereal in hand.

“My bad,” Sara says over the top of her newspaper. She’s sprawled out on the couch, bare legs tucked under the afghan Sam got them for Christmas, socked feet poking out the bottom. “I can go buy some later.”

“Later won’t help me now.” Kendra picks at her cereal as she walks over to the couch and lifts Sara’s feet so she can sit under them. Almost as soon as Sara’s feet are settled in Kendra’s lap there’s a bang at the door and it flies open, cracking against the windowsill it slams into. Sara’s up from the couch in milliseconds, kicking Kendra’s bowl of cereal out of her hands and showering their unwelcome visitors with corn flakes.

“Sorry we’re late.” Rip Hunter in all his space cowboy glory is standing in their doorway, slowly holstering his pistol as he looks at Sara with confusion. “Miss Lance, could you kindly put on some pants?”

“This is my house, I’ll do what I damn please,” Sara spits out but she turns around and picks up the afghan anyways because Ray is standing just behind Rip and he’s very obviously not looking in Sara’s direction.

“Kendra,” Ray isn’t looking at Sara but he’s certainly locked onto Kendra, eyes dewy and this sheepish, almost embarrassed smile on his face.

“We thought you were dead,” Kendra says through a quivering bottom lip. Because they did, hadn’t talked about it in so many words but the two of them had given up hope on being rescued months ago. Kendra doesn’t exactly run towards Ray but they kind of meet in the middle for a long hug, Rip moving out of the way to give them space.

“You’re a year late,” Sara says as she watches Kendra and Ray hug. She looks so small against him and she’s crying now, happy tears wetting the front of Ray’s shirt. Ray reaches down to wipe at Kendra’s eyes and there’s a tight feeling in Sara’s chest, hot but hollow and she fists the afghan so tight her knuckles turn white.

“Bit of a thing with Chronos but everything’s better now,” Rip says and as an afterthought, “almost.”

Sara coughs loudly in an effort to get Kendra’s attention and Kendra steps back from Ray almost immediately. Ray reaches out to try to hold her hand as she moves away and Kendra lets him for just a second before she moves a little closer to Sara.

“Do you need to grab anything before we leave?” Rip’s got his hands in his pockets as he casually looks around the apartment.

“Leave?” Kendra says quietly. “Oh,” she leans into Sara’s side a little and all the silent anger left over from Ray and Kendra’s extended hug just melts into a cold pool at the pit of Sara’s stomach.

They have a life here, quiet and easy, albeit a little restrictive but this apartment has slowly become their home and Sara knows they have to leave but doesn’t know if she wants to. Sara loosens a fist and lets her hand fall down to grab at Kendra’s and Kendra holds fast to it, almost squeezing a little too hard as she turns to look at Sara with still-watery eyes.

“Yeah,” Sara says, more to Kendra than Rip, “give us a couple minutes.”

The girls disappear into the bedroom and as soon as they’re out of eyesight Kendra’s got her arms around Sara’s back, holding her so tight that Sara’s sure she’ll have bruises tomorrow. She’s crying again and Sara just hugs her back, kisses the side of her head. “It’ll be okay,” Sara whispers, “everyone will be happy to see us.”

Sara wants to think that being rescued is what they both secretly wanted all along, that even though they thought their crew was dead the idea of home never quite left their heads. But Kendra is still crying into her shoulder and Sara’s heart has started to ache because they’re never going to see this apartment again and things might never be the same.

Once Kendra’s stopped crying they start to pack. The bedroom is easy: Kendra takes two dresses, her jewelry and a bottle of perfume. Once she’s put on pants Sara only takes her Chucks and one button-down shirt. They take their favorite mugs from the kitchen and the potted palm and little knick knacks on the windowsill. Kendra puts every single book and record they own into a box and stacks the record player on top. As a last thought Kendra grabs the afghan abandoned on the bedroom floor and then they’re standing at the doorway trying not to look impossibly sad as they put on their coats and follow Rip and Ray out the door.

They leave all their cash and their keys on the kitchen counter with a hastily scribbled note to Sam who was supposed to come over for dinner later.

The Waverider is bigger than they remember, shinier but darker at the same time and even though Sara’s carrying a big heavy box she manages to prop it on her hip so she can hold Kendra’s hand when they walk on board. They head straight to the flight deck where Jax and Stein meet them warmly, a round of hugs between them all and Kendra looks a little happier seeing them both.

“You don’t look too happy to see us,” Leonard says as he sidles up behind Sara to lean casually against the main console.

Ray is hugging Kendra again and Sara feels the clench in her stomach, tight and angry. “We didn’t think you were coming back,” is all Sara says before she takes her box and heads for her room. She’s standing at her bed unpacking her clothes and a few of her books when there’s a click and a whoosh as the door to her bunk opens up.

“Hey,” Kendra’s voice is still quiet and when Sara turns around she’s cradling their potted plant against her chest and the afghan is wrapped around her shoulders.

“You can keep the record player in your room,” Sara says, replacing the player in the box as she pulls out the last of her things.

“Hey,” Kendra repeats again, a little louder this time which makes Sara actually look up at her. “What’s happening?”

“You listened to them more, I thought you’d want them in your room.”

“Sara, what are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“Sara.” They’re on the verge of a fight, Sara can tell by the sound of Kendra’s voice, the way it digs a little into Sara’s skin. Kendra’s at the bed now, hand on Sara’s forearm and she’s making steady eye contact. Her eyes are still a little red from crying and she looks tired and angry and confused all at the same time and Sara wishes she weren’t so close. It’s hard to fight when they’re this close. “Sara,” Kendra says her name again, a little softer this time.

“Ray’s happy you’re back,” Sara says, ducking eye contact as soon as she finishes her sentence. It was the wrong thing to say but it’s as close as what she wants to say as she’s willing to get. It’s not that Sara thinks Kendra will go running back to Ray it’s that things are different now. They’re no longer each other’s only friends, there are other people to talk to, to hang out with, to rely on. 1958 was its own little bubble, just the two of them fighting to make a little life together with card games and mystery novels and jazz records and picnics in the park. Life on the Waverider has so many more moving parts, so many more people and Sara’s afraid of losing Kendra to the way things were.

Kendra’s grip on her forearm gets a little tighter, “everyone is happy we’re back, Sara.”

“Even you?”

Kendra takes a step closer to Sara, wraps her arms and the afghan around her and hugs, not as tight as before but it’s still a solid hug, warm and comfortable and Sara’s arms snake around Kendra’s lower back as she tucks her face against Kendra’s neck.

“You think just because we’re back I’m going to forget about the past year?”

She kisses the side of Sara’s head and then leans back, Sara lifts her head so they can press their foreheads together. “No,” Sara whispers between them, she almost says ‘maybe’ but Kendra still smells like their laundry detergent and her perfume and the afghan is soft against her neck. Maybe things won’t be so bad, maybe Kendra won’t get swept up in the way things were. Sara’s the one that leans forward for the kiss, light and sweet and Kendra smiles into it.

“Do we have to tell them?” Sara asks as she pulls away.

“Once I move in here they’ll figure it out.”

Sara leans in to kiss Kendra again, “oh you’re moving in, are you?”

“Your bunk is like six inches wider than mine,” Kendra answers.

“You think these rooms are soundproofed?”

Kendra laughs, “only one way to find out.”


End file.
